


Broken Feather

by Ragingbulldurham



Category: Jurassic World (2015)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-27
Updated: 2015-09-08
Packaged: 2018-04-17 12:32:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4666608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ragingbulldurham/pseuds/Ragingbulldurham
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>"It’s Claire,” Karen said breathlessly after he answered. “They couldn’t get a hold of you, and so they tried me. There’s been an accident, I don’t know anything else, I just don’t know anything.”</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Broken feather made me cry

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a Tumblr prompt. It got needlessly melodramatic. I'm not even sort of sorry. The title is from the song by Harrison Storm.

He got the call at work.

He thought it might be bad when Barry came clambering up the stairs, a frown on his face. Barry knew better than to interrupt him when he was trying to work with the girls.

"Phone call,” Barry told him. “It’s Claire’s sister.” Owen dropped the bucket he was holding, and rushed down to the office. Karen wouldn’t call him unless something had happened.

"It’s Claire,” Karen said breathlessly after he answered. “They couldn’t get a hold of you, and so they tried me. There’s been an accident, I don’t know anything else, I just don’t know anything.” She sounded fucking scared, and there are a million scenarios that run through Owen’s head, and none of them are good. They live on an island with fucking dinosaurs, not to mention a million other things in that jungle that could possibly kill them.

His phone was buried in a pile of paperwork in the trailer next to the raptor paddock, and when he dug it out he saw a slew of missed calls.

“I’ll call you back as soon as I know anything,” Owen promised.

“As _soon_ as you do,” Karen insisted, and then disconnected the phone. Owen listened to the message from Zara first, and could barely make out what she was saying. Her words were rushed and clipped and she wasn’t making any sense, but he heard the words “accident” and “bleeding” and was already moving towards where his bike was parked.

He doesn’t bother listening to any other messages, already dialing Zara’s number. She answered on the third ring, with,

“Where are you?”

“I’m leaving the paddock now, right now. Where’d they take her?” There was a small hospital on the island for minor injuries and illnesses, and it doesn’t do his racing heart any good when Zara tells him that they’ve already airlifted her to Costa Rica to the main hospital there.

“Masrani’s got a helicopter waiting to take you,” Zara told him. “We’ll go as soon as you get here.”

“What happened?” Owen asked. “How bad is it?” There was a long pause on the other end of the phone, before a sigh came down the line.

“Just get here as fast as you can,” Zara answered. “I’ll explain on the way, but it’s not good.” Her voice broke towards the end of the sentence and Owen pressed hard on the gas.

* * *

It wasn’t a dinosaur.

It was a fucking car accident, and wasn’t that something? She lived and worked with dangerous animals, and it was an ordinary car accident that had Owen pacing the floor of a private waiting room in the hospital on the Costa Rican coast.

Just as Zara had promised, she was waiting for Owen when he arrived at the Innovation Center, skidding to a stop in front of the building.

Her arms were crossed over her body, and she looked pale and scared, and Owen’s heart skipped a beat.

“What happened?” He asked again, and Zara sighed with her whole body.

“That new spinosaurus handler? Rob? You know him?” Owen did, and he didn’t like him. He hadn’t liked him even before Claire complained about him being rude, aggressive, and spending his time alternating between talking to her like she was an idiot and talking to only her chest.

“What about him?” Owen asked, following Zara as she wove her way through the crowd to the elevator.

“He called in, a breach in the fence, and insisted that Claire come out, claimed that it was the third time it happened this month and that failing to heed his warnings would result in fatalities and a lawsuit. He was insistent that Claire handle this herself, wouldn’t take no for an answer,” Zara leaned back against the wall of the elevator as it rose, and Owen clenched his hands at his side.

"What was she supposed to do about it?” Owen seethed. Zara shrugged helplessly.

“I don’t know, Owen. Claire figured she would waste more time in arguing with him than she would just riding out with someone from the security team and checking on it,” Zara continued. They stepped out onto the helicopter pad, and her words were cut off by the sound of the rotating blades. Owen ducked underneath and was surprised to find Mr. Masrani already climbed aboard.

"Hello, Mr. Grady,” Masrani greeted with a grim look on his face.

"Sir,” Owen replied, buckling his seat belt and sliding on the headset.

“I was just filling him in,” Zara explained, the door closing behind her and the pilot lifting the helicopter moments later. She turned back to Owen. “Claire grabbed Joey, do you know Joey? Maybe you don’t. He’s new. ACU. It doesn’t matter.” Zara shook her head, trying to refocus. “They drove out to figure out what was going on and try to appease Rob. He was really agitated, Owen, _really_ agitated. I could hear him shouting at Claire through the phone.” She sighed. “Joey said that Rob was waiting for them to drive the rest of the way to the breach, and Claire switched cars so that she could try to calm Rob down on the way. Joey said they were about a mile out when Rob began driving erratically, zig zagging and speeding up and then slamming on his brakes. He wasn’t sure what happened, but Rob lost control of the car. They hit a tree on the passenger side, on Claire’s side.” Zara let out a shaky breath.

 _Claire’s side._  

"She was awake,” Masrani filled in softly.“When Joey got to the car, Claire was still awake. That’s good, Owen, that’s really good.”

“Rob was fine,” Zara practically spit the words, the anger dripping from her voice. Owen could understand that anger, he felt it wash over him and for a moment it was better than the paralyzing fear.

He had never wanted to hurt a person as much as he wanted to hurt Rob. He wanted to hurt him, feed him to his raptors, make him pay.

Because he had hurt Claire, and that was unacceptable.

“And Claire?” Owen asked, not knowing if he wanted the answer.

“They airlifted her out,” Zara said. “There’s internal bleeding, and she hit her head and fractured her arm. The last thing I heard was that she was in surgery.”

“She was holding her own,” Masrani jumped in. “You know our Claire, she’s strong.” She was strong. She was _so_ strong, but the idea of having to live without her was one that Owen wasn’t prepared to confront. It made his insides twist painfully.

 _No, no, no_ , she had to be okay. Anything else was not a possibility.

After they landed, they were immediately shuffled off to a private waiting room where they waited for what felt like an eternity.

"Isn’t someone going to come out and tell us what’s happening?” Owen asked, glaring at the closed door. Masrani had left about an hour before, having to take a few phone calls and promising to check in, but Barry had joined them, slipping into the room to offer quiet support.

“No news is good news?” Zara offered weakly, sighing as she tipped her head back against the seat.

“You’re making me dizzy,” Barry told Owen. “Take a seat.”

"I can’t sit,” Owen shot back, even as he was dropping into the chair next to him, burying his face in his hands.

Owen should have figured something was going to happen. Things had been _so_ good lately, ridiculously good.

In the months since New Year’s, Claire had slowly been migrating all of her things to Owen’s bungalow, until finally one morning he gathered his courage and asked her to make it official and move in. She had hesitated at first, nervous about what the rest of the staff would think, nervous that they were moving too fast, nervous about a whole host of reasons that Owen didn’t quite understand, and he told her as much.

They had gotten into a fight about it, until in the middle of arguing Owen had found a way to shut her up.

“I love you, damn it,” he exclaimed, and Claire had stopped, her eyes wide.

"What?” She asked.

"I love you,” he softened his voice. “You’re impossible, and you infuriate me, but I love you so damn much.” There had been a beat of tense silence before Claire crashed her lips against his.

“I love you, too,” she mumbled. “You’re an idiot, and I love you.”

They fought, of course they did, but they were happy. Their jobs were good, the Park was good, everything was so damn good that Owen should have known that the other shoe was going to drop.

And here he was, the shoe dropped, sitting, waiting to see what the rest of his life would look like.

“It can’t be long,” Barry offered, “they’ve got to come out and tell you something soon.”

 _Please_ , Owen thought, offering up prayers to anyone he thought would listen. _Please, please, please let her be okay._

* * *

 

It was hours later when they finally came to find him. She was out of surgery, in recovery, and he could go back once she was settled in the ICU.

They managed to stop the bleeding, set her arm, and were worried about the concussion, but nothing could be done about that until she woke up.

Which, _thank God, thank God, thank God_ , they were certain she would.  

Zara had fallen asleep, slumped against his shoulder, and he shook her awake to tell her the news. Barry had gone back to the island to take care of the girls, promising that would be one less thing for Owen to worry about.

It was another small eternity before the nurse brought him back to Claire’s room. He stopped short when he saw her in the bed, her red hair extra vibrant against the white of the crisp sheets. She looked so tiny in the bed, so tiny and so fragile and so unlike his force-of-nature Claire that it momentarily sucked the breath from his lungs.

He approached her cautiously, and the nurse nudged him.

“You won’t hurt her,” she assured him, and he picked up her hands and tangled their fingers together and brushed a piece of hair from her face.

“You’re going to be okay,” he told her firmly. There was no other option. She had to be okay. “I’m right here, you rest, I’ll be right here when you wake up.”


	2. Lost and wounded

"They really need to do something about the comfort level of these chairs,” Owen told Claire’s still body. He had taken the advice of the nurse and babbled on about everything ranging from the raptors to his high school football team waiting for her eyes to flutter open. “I mean, I’m not going anywhere, obviously, I’ll sit here as long as I need to, but these chairs are as hard as goddamn rocks, hon.”

He gave her hand a squeeze, and stood, stretching his back and walking to the window. Masrani had made sure that Claire had a private room, “spare no expense” was the message the hospital had gotten, and they had listened.

Owen sighed, and then glanced back at the bed. He had been assured, no less than five times, that they expected Claire to wake up at any moment.

He was becoming impatient.

Karen was on her way, having left the boys with her husband and jumped on the first plane as soon as Owen had called when he got to the hospital. He had no answers for her, or at least not the answers she wanted, and she had called him back a half hour later with flight information.

He hadn’t met Claire’s sister yet, only through Skype when Claire called, and if he had any worry left over to spare, he might be concerned about meeting her for the first time and making a good impression.

But the only thing he could focus on was Claire. Fear made him sick, it overwhelmed him, he couldn’t breathe properly when he thought about how close he was to losing her.

(And how he could still lose her. So many things could still go wrong. They were hopeful, but she wasn’t completely out of the woods yet. She still had to wake up, they still had to check her cognitive abilities, and she still had to recover.)

Owen sunk back down into the chair, picking up Claire’s hand and brushing a kiss to her knuckles.

“You want to wake up there, sweetheart? Any time you feel like it, I’m ready,” he mumbled, tucking a piece of her hair behind her ear. He watched the rise and fall of her chest, and then laid his head down on the bed. He wasn’t sure how long he had been like that, head resting on the bed, when he felt fingers card through his hair.

Owen sat up immediately, eyes darting to meet Claire’s now open ones, a slow, lazy smile spreading on her face.

“Hey,” she said, her voice hoarse from the intubation and disuse.

“Hey,” it was all he could manage to get out. Trembling, he brought her hand up to his mouth and pressed a kiss to her palm. Owen took a deep breath, and then let it out again. “You scared the shit out of me.” He leaned in and pressed a kiss to her chapped lips, and then a kiss to her cheek, and her nose, and her chin, pressing kisses all over her face.

“I know,” she sighed, closing her eyes. Owen kissed her eyelids lightly, before falling back into the chair, her hand still firmly tucked in his.

“How do you feel?” He asked, unable to keep his voice from shaking. Claire groaned in response, wincing as she shifted. “Don’t move,” he instructed.

“I feel like I’ve been hit by a semi-trailer,” Claire confessed, stilling her movements.

"Close,” Owen said, grimly. “You hit a tree.” His free hand clenched into a fist at his side, just thinking about Rob driving her into a tree. “Do you remember what happened?” Claire nodded, giving his hand a weak squeeze.

"Rob,” she answered, her tone sharp.

"Yeah,” Owen breathed. “But hey,” he ran a thumb down her face gently. “Don’t worry about him, okay? Worry about you. You should get some rest. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Promise?” Claire asked, as she closed her eyes.

“Promise,” he repeated.

* * *

After Karen arrived was the first time Owen allowed himself to leave Claire’s side.

"You look exhausted,” Claire told him, frowning slightly. “Go home and get some sleep.”

“I got some sleep while you were sleeping,” he argued, and she rolled her eyes.

“Sleeping in that chair is not actually sleeping,” she shot back. “Go home, shower, eat, sleep. You need to.”

“I am not going all the way home,” Owen responded forcefully. He was not going back to the island without her. Nope, not happening. “Barry’s reassured me things are quiet back on the ranch. I’m not leaving here without you, so you can forget it.” Claire’s eyes narrowed, and he was aware that if she was feeling better they would have a serious fight on their hands.

But she wasn’t feeling like herself. She was stuck in a hospital bed, and he be damned if he would be a whole boat ride away from her. She had only been awake for a few hours, she was out of her damn mind if she thought he was going to agree with this plan.

“Go to my hotel room,” Karen offered, stepping in to play mediator. A role that she was good at thanks to her two bickering boys. “Compromise?”

“Please,” Claire’s voice softened and he was unable to say no to her. “You’ve got to be ready to drop over. Get some fresh air. Get some real food. Get some sleep.”

“Fine,” he huffed, leaning down to give her a kiss goodbye. “But I’ll be back, okay? I’m only going to be gone a few hours.” Claire opened her mouth as if to argue, and then slammed it shut again. She was good at realizing when she was going up against an impossible battle, and she decided to save her breath. She wasn’t going to win this one, not with the way that Owen had been hovering since she had opened her eyes.

“We want some girl time,” Karen told him as she handed him the key. “Take your time.”

“Three hours. Tops,” Owen held up three fingers and Claire shook her head lightly.

“Go,” she ordered, and he flashed her a grin as he disappeared out the door.

“He’s cute,” Karen grinned at her sister, flopping into the chair that Owen had just occupied.

“You’ve seen pictures, you’ve even Skyped,” Claire pointed out as Karen settled in.

“He’s much tastier in person,” Karen shrugged.

“If I could, I would hit you,” Claire muttered, but Karen caught the edges of Claire’s mouth tugging up into a smile.

* * *

True to his word, Owen was back in just under three hours, returning to find Claire sleeping and Karen sitting with her feet propped up on the bed.

“She okay?” He asked, gesturing to the bed.

“She’s fine,” Karen answered. “They gave her something for the pain, and that knocked her right out.” Owen crossed over, leaning down to brush a kiss to Claire’s forehead.

“I can take over,” Owen offered. “You have to also be exhausted.” Karen had come straight from the airport, and Owen was aware of just how long of a day that must have been for her.

“I’ll be back in the morning,” Karen said, whether as a promise or a warning, Owen wasn’t quite sure. He just nodded, stepping aside to let her pass before dropping down into the seat that she had just vacated.

Careful not to wake Claire, he tangled their fingers together, hoping for an easy night where she just slept peacefully.

He didn’t get it.

It was a rough night from the start, Claire waking with a gasp of pain, hurting so badly that her eyes were watering, and she bit down so hard on her lip to stop from crying out that she drew blood. Owen hated, hated, seeing her like that, unable to do anything to help.

“Take more painkillers,” he begged, and Claire shook her head.

“It’s fine,” she insisted, but a second later, she hissed through her teeth in pain.

He honored her wishes up until she broke down, weeping as she gripped onto his hand.

“God, it hurts,” she sobbed, and that was _enough_. She was supposed to be recovering, and she couldn’t do that if she was in so much pain that she was goddamn crying. Claire was strong, she had a high tolerance, he couldn’t even imagine how badly it must hurt for her to be like this.

“I’m calling the nurse,” he told her, his voice firm.

“I said I was fine.” Claire was angry, but he liked that she was angry, it might distract her, even a little, from the fact that she was hurting.

He ignored her, unbelievably grateful when the medicine kicked in and her eyes fluttered shut, muttering that she was still annoyed with him.

He thanked the nurse, running a shaky hand through his hair and fighting the urge to cry himself.

It was a long night.


	3. We don't need no one to wither us away

Karen walked into Claire’s hospital room to see Owen asleep in the chair, his head resting on the bed by Claire’s legs, but her sister wide awake, running her fingers through Owen’s hair with her uninjured hand. Claire gave Karen a small, tired smile. 

“How are you feeling?” Karen asked, her voice barely above a whisper, taking the free seat on the other side of Claire’s bed. Her sister gave a grimace, shaking her head slightly.

“Not great,” she replied.

“We had a rough night,” Owen said, sitting up and blinking a couple of times, running a tired hand over his face. “I should go get the nurse. It’s been a while since you took anything for the pain.”

“Owen,” Claire started, her voice weary, “I’m okay.” He glared at her, ignoring her and standing.

“We’re not getting to the point we got to last night, Claire,” he told her firmly. He wouldn’t be able to get Claire’s pained cries out of his head any time soon. The way her face crumpled as she gasped for breath between spasms. “You’ll take the damn medicine, and stop being so goddamn stubborn.” With that, he stormed out of the room, and Claire sighed.

“He’s not wrong,” Karen spoke up in the silence that accompanied his exit. “You need rest, and you can’t rest if you’re in too much pain.” Claire pulled a face, but didn’t argue, and when Owen came back in, the nurse trailing behind him, she wordlessly allowed more of the heavy duty painkillers.

“They make me tired,” Claire complained lightly when the nurse had left.

“Tough,” Owen shot back, settling back down next to her, his hand coming up to brush hair off her face.

“Bully,” Claire muttered as the drugs kicked in, causing her eyelids to droop. She was out in a few minutes, and Owen scrubbed his hand over his face again.

“When I get my hands on Rob, I’m going to kill him,” Owen said. He wanted to hurt him, he wanted to feed him to his girls, he wanted to make him pay.

Owen had checked in with Barry, who had said things were fine on the island. The girls were behaving for the most part, and he could hold down the fort for the next few days. Owen recognized at some point he was going to have to go back, and it was probably going to be before Claire was released, but it wasn’t something he was allowing himself to think about too hard. He couldn’t stomach the thought of being that far from her when she still needed him.

“Get in line,” Karen murmured, glancing down at her sister in the bed. “Did they say when they were going to release her?”

“They want to keep her a few more days, keep an eye on her. They’re worried about infection,” Owen reported. Owen was convinced that they were downplaying the risk of infection, Claire was convinced that he was paranoid and crazy.

“You’re overreacting,” she accused.

“You’re underreacting,” he replied, and Claire got it, she did. She understood that he was scared, and it would take a while for him to be able to relax. She would be the same way if the situation was reversed, but she needed him to calm down. She was okay. She just had to convince him of the same.

“And then once she’s home? How long did they think before she would be cleared to return to work?” Owen shrugged.

“I’m not sure, but what I am sure about is that she’s going to fight me tooth and nail on it,” he couldn’t help but flash Claire’s sister a grin which she mirrored. A bed ridden Claire was going to be impossible.

He was already debating the pros and cons of staying at their bungalow compared to getting a hotel room closer to the Innovation Center and Main Street. A hotel room wasn't a bad idea, he was sure he could convince Masrani to get them a suite, and then Claire would be closer to the hospital on the island in case something happened. But their bungalow had the added benefit of being far enough away from Claire’s office that she might not be able to give him the slip and get back to work before she was supposed to be.

Maybe he could slip Lowery some money and convince him to monitor Claire’s movements from the Control Room, but then again, he didn’t have a death wish, and he was sure that neither did Lowery.

“When I got that call,” Karen sobered slightly, glancing down at her sleeping sister. “God, I was so scared. Zara wasn’t making much sense, she was just babbling.” She sucked in a shaky breath. “It was my biggest fear, something happening to her, but I didn’t think it would be _this_. I thought…Jesus, I thought so many things but this was never one of them.”

“I've never been so fucking scared in my life,” Owen admitted. “And I work with raptors, for God's sake.”

“She's okay, though,” Karen said, her eyes never leaving Claire. “I have to keep repeating that to myself. She's okay. She's okay. She's _okay_.” 

It was hard to believe that, Owen understood, when Claire was still in that hospital bed, pale and only staying awake for short stretches of time. When she winced in pain every time she moved, when the doctors used words like “septic” and “fatal,” which did nothing to ease Owen's worried mind.

He would feel better, he knew, once she was out of the hospital.

He just wanted her home.

* * *

Karen was only able to stick around for another couple of days, leaving on the same day that Claire was released from the hospital.

“Come back for a visit, bring the boys,” Claire requested as Karen brushed a kiss to her cheek.

“They'll love that,” Karen told her sister with a smile, and dropped one more kiss into Claire's unruly hair before giving Owen a hug goodbye. “Take care of her.”

“Scout's honor,” Owen promised with a smile.

“Don't give him too hard of a time,” Karen warned Claire, who rolled her eyes.

“He's got to knock off the mother hen routine,” Claire said.

“Unlikely to happen any time soon,” Owen shot back. “I'm going to go get the discharge paperwork so we can get a move on.” He gave Karen one last hug goodbye before heading out to the nurses' station.

“Give him a break, you nearly gave him a heart attack,” Karen defended him. “I think you shaved ten years off the poor guy's life. I think you shaved ten years off of _mine_.” Claire looked defiant for a moment, but then her gaze softened and she shook her head.

“I'm sorry,” she said softly.

“Wasn't your fault,” Karen replied. “But try to go easy on him. He was scared out of his mind when Zara called. He's going to hover. _Let him_.”

“Don't you have a plane to catch?” Claire grumbled.

“Love you,” Karen called over her shoulder as she grabbed her bags and headed out of the room. “Be _nice_ , Claire. Listen to the people who only want the best for you.”

“Go,” Claire instructed, sighing as the door shut behind Karen and tilting her head back against the bed.

She wanted to go home so badly. More than anything she was just simply exhausted. Sleep was hard to come by in the hospital, with nurses and doctors coming in and out. Masrani had asked for special treatment, which meant _more_ staff constantly checking on her. She hadn't gotten a full night's sleep in days, and her eyes were rimmed red with deep, dark circles, and every time he caught a good look at her, Owen's frown would deepen.

Claire just wanted her own bed, with Owen's arms around her. It was where she felt safe, felt _better_.

And she was trying to play down just how _awful_ she felt. She didn't need to pile onto Owen's already teetering pile of worry and panic, but she felt terrible. Her broken arm _hurt_ , and would be a real pain in the ass, she already knew, her head pounded on a near constant basis, and her whole body ached. The drugs helped keep the edge off, but the pain was always there, a dull throbbing throughout her.

Being home would help tremendously, Claire decided.

Or at least she hoped it would.

In the meantime, she needed Owen to relax before he ended up in the hospital himself from an ulcer, and so she flashed a wide smile when he came back into the room and asked her if she was ready to go.

“Absolutely,” Claire answered enthusiastically, and was relieved when Owen's face broke into its own smile. “Let's go home.”

* * *

Owen forgot about how bumpy the drive out to the bungalow was, and he watched as Claire's face paled with every bump of the road.

When he had tried to suggest staying at a hotel room, Claire had firmly put her foot down.

“I want my bed,” she told him. “I want to be _home_.”

“What if something...” he started, and Claire interrupted him, her temper flaring.

“I'm _okay,_ ” she exclaimed. “And I'm going home. And if you want to stay in a hotel room, go for it. I'm not.”

But now he wondered if he should have argued with her, as her grip on the door handle tightened and she sucked in a breath. Owen slowed his driving to a crawl, and she let out a shaky sigh.

“You okay?” He asked, darting a glance her way.

“Mm-hmm,” Claire's mouth was drawn in a tight line, but she gave him a small smile that he didn't buy for a moment. His hand dropped to her thigh, and gave it a squeeze.

“We're almost home,” he said, trying to carefully navigate around the dips and holes in the road. Claire didn't say anything else, just closed her eyes and tried to breathe in and out through the pain.

He knew she was hurting when they finally got home and she accepted a Vicodin with no argument, swallowing it quickly and then collapsing into bed. Owen helped her prop up her broken arm, and she was asleep in seconds.

Owen _hated_ this, and knew that she was in a lot more pain than she was letting on.

Goddamn Rob.

Masrani had fired him, put him on the first boat off the island, but Owen heard through the grapevine that Rob was still in Costa Rica, trying to plead for his job back.

Owen had a list of things to do now that he and Claire were home. He had to check on the girls, check in on some things Claire had asked him to (and he would do them mostly so that she _didn't_ ), and then.

Then he would figure out what to do about Rob.


	4. Sit still tree, sway gently

Claire was bored.

She was in pain, yes. But she was also mind-numbingly bored. She didn't do inactivity well, and Owen was apparently convinced that she was made of spun glass.

He hovered. _Constantly._ She actually looked forward to the short bursts of time when he went to the paddock to check on the raptors. Not that she was ever alone. He insisted that if he wasn't home, someone else come by. Zara was allowed but she was under strict instructions from Owen not to bring work with her. Claire, at first, was too tired and too injured to try to argue or circumvent his rules, but she had been home for three days and she was _bored_.

Not to mention that Owen was most definitely up to something. She had caught an exchange between he and Barry when Barry stopped by that was suspicious. Their heads had been bent together and they were whispering something, but both froze when they spotted Claire.

And then Owen had quickly thawed, his eyes narrowing.

“What are you doing out of bed?” He exclaimed, rushing over to her.

“My _legs_ aren't broken,” Claire huffed, but he had ignored her, placing a hand on the small of her back and walking with her, insisting that she might get dizzy or fall.

On the second day, she woke up feeling stiff and warm and let out a small groan when her eyes opened. Owen's hand shot to her forehead instantly, a frown quickly crossing his face.

“You feel hot,” he muttered, throwing his legs over the side of the bed to go into the bathroom to get the thermometer.

Having him sleep in the bed had been an argument that Claire had thankfully won. He had been afraid that he would hurt her if he accidentally rolled into her at night, but she had pouted, wanting him stretched out next to her, and he was defenseless in the face of her pout.

Claire hadn't put up too much of a fight when he came back to take her temperature, which was a sign to both of them how awful she was feeling. When the thermometer beeped signaling a pretty elevated temperature, Claire had to talk Owen off the edge.

“Let's go, we're going to the hospital,” Owen insisted, throwing on a pair of jeans and t-shirt.

“Could you stop?” Claire requested, taking a deep breath. He was really beginning to try her patience.

“They said to look for infection,” Owen said, coming over to help her out of bed. “We should check your stitches, do they hurt? Are they pulling?”

“Let's start with Tylenol,” she said, placing a gentle hand on his arm. “And I promise I'll go if my temperature doesn't go down, okay?”

“I'd feel better if we just went now,” Owen tried, but Claire had stood firm (or as firm as she could with the way that she was feeling), and thankfully her temperature had come back down after she had taken some Tylenol and got a little bit more sleep.

She really did understand that he had been scared, that he had felt helpless, that he was reacting to a traumatic experience for both of them. And in some ways she thought he had it worse. Claire couldn't stomach the thought of the situation being reversed. Of sitting in that waiting room not knowing if Owen was going to make it or not.

But she was going to fucking kill him if he didn't knock it the hell off.

She was hurt, bored, and cranky, and itching for a fight, and it was just a matter of time before Owen gave her the opportunity for one.

Not to mention that he was running himself ragged. She was recovering, and it would take a while, and there was absolutely no way that he could maintain this level of anxiety for long.

“He's going to seriously give himself an ulcer,” Claire complained to Karen. Owen was in the kitchen making her something to eat, and Claire dropped her voice so that he wouldn't hear her.

“Things will calm down,” Karen assured. “In the meantime, how's the arm?”

“Annoying,” Claire sighed. “I'm ready to go back to work.”

“Nope,” Karen said in a sing song voice. “First of all, Owen will barricade that door to stop you from going to work, and your left hook is out of commission at the moment, so that plan is out. Plus, you were just in surgery a week ago for hours, Claire. To stop _internal_ bleeding. Keep your ass in that bed or I will fly down there and help Owen keep your stubborn ass in that bed.”

“I think a compromise could be reached,” Claire insisted. “I can email from my bed. I can read and run reports from my laptop from my bed.”

“Are you still on Vicodin?” Karen asked, and Claire fell silent for a moment.

“Only at night,” she replied tartly. Nights were bad. Nights were when she was tired, and just wanted to sleep, and her arm throbbed and she had to bite her lip from crying out, and Owen looked like he was three seconds away from losing his shit and Claire wanted to wrap her arms around him and reassure him that she was here and alive and okay and it hurt but it wouldn't hurt forever, and she _couldn't_.

On her first night at home, Owen had finally asked her what exactly had happened before the accident. They were in bed, Claire's fractured arm propped up on pillows, and Claire tucked into Owen's side, his fingers carding through her hair as she breathed through the pain.

“We went out there, Joey and I,” Claire started. “And he was so _mad_ , he was impossible to talk to, Rob, he kept saying the breaches in the fence were unacceptable and how was he supposed to do his job?” She left out the part where he made reference to Owen, and made the snarky remark,

“Maybe if I was sleeping with the boss, my animals could also get special treatment.”

Claire had very calmly raised an eyebrow, and responded, “doubtful.”

She didn't need to raise Owen's blood pressure any higher than it already was.

So instead she told him about how to calm Rob down, she and Joey agreed to ride out to the breach in the fence, and Rob insisted that she drive with him. It had been easier just to do it than argue, she had a meeting back at the office in a couple of hours that she wanted to get back and ready for, and she figured just appeasing Rob would take less time.

Claire remembered thinking that Rob was driving too fast, too wildly, she had mentioned it to him a couple of times to slow down. The roads were narrow, windy, and bumpy, and Rob was taking turns like a lunatic. He was speeding up the faster he talked, and he was talking quickly, irrationally upset about the way he and his animals were being treated. It was when he wiped his nose for the umpteenth time since they got into the car that alarm bells started going off in Claire's head.

“Rob?” She asked very carefully. “Are you okay? Did you take anything?” His head whipped around to look at her.

“I don't know what you're talking about,” his voice was oddly calm considering how worked up he had been just seconds earlier.

“I need you to pull the car over and let me drive,” Claire instructed, keeping her voice level and calm even though she was internally panicking.

“No, no, we're almost there, I'm fine. I know where I'm going, I'm fine,” Rob kept insisting.

“Rob, pull over _now_ ,” she demanded, and the words weren't even completely out when he jerked the wheel to the right, and the car went careening off the road.

Claire hadn't time to think before they slammed into a tree, her head hitting the side of the car as the airbags imploded. She was still awake, but dazed, as Rob threw open his car door and tumbled out. As if in a tunnel, she could hear Joey calling out her name, and she tried to move her arm and found that she couldn't.

Joey skidded to a stop by the open driver's door, looking in and frowning. That was when Claire knew it was bad. The pain was overwhelming, and her vision was dimming.

“Stay with me, hey, Claire, stay with me,” Joey kept repeating.

“Owen,” she managed to get out. “Call Owen? Can you call Owen?”

“I'll call him, right now, okay? I'm just going to call for help and then I'll call him,” Joey said.

“I want to talk to him,” Claire mumbled. “I need to talk...I need him.”

Things are a little hazy after that, she's not sure how long it takes before there are paramedics and Zara, hovering just in her periphery, phone pressed to her ear.

“Zara tried to call me twenty-seven times,” Owen told Claire, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. “I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry I didn't answer.”

“You couldn't have done anything,” Claire soothed.

“You needed me,” his words are muffled from where he has buried his face in her shoulder.

“I _needed_ a paramedic and a doctor,” Claire replied firmly, “I _wanted_ you, but I always want you. And you came, you got there as soon as you could.” Owen didn't say anything to that, guilt washing over him in waves.

“Rob needs to be arrested,” was what he said when he finally lifted his head.

“Probably,” Claire agreed, easily. “I don't want to think about him, though.”

He was all Owen _could_ think about.

Masrani hadn't had all the details when he fired him. All he had known was that he was recklessly driving and had caused an accident. By the time Claire was awake and could tell them what had happened, Rob had disappeared onto Costa Rica.

But Owen knew people, could call in some favors, could _find_ him.

They lived on an island full of predators, and sometimes, hey, things happened.

Thinking about how to make Rob pay helped loosen some of the tightness in Owen's chest when he thought about Claire bleeding, _dying_ , in the car. It replaced the crippling fear with anger, and anger was far easier to deal with.

But even though Claire didn't know that Barry was tracking Rob for Owen, even though she didn't know exactly what was going on, she had a fucking sixth sense about things.

“I think we should let him self-destruct somewhere else and be someone else's problem,” she told Owen more than once.

It was Rob, what to do about Rob, that finally pushed an irritated, exhausted, moody Claire over the edge.

“What are you going to do? Bring him back? Feed him to the raptors?” Claire exclaimed, exasperated. “He obviously needed, _needs_ , help. He obviously has a problem.”

“You've got to be fucking kidding me,” Owen shot back. “He needs _help_? He almost got you killed, Claire!” Claire huffed in frustration.

“I understand that, but he's gone now, okay? He's gone. Stop trying to find him. He's obviously spiraling out of control. Just let him spiral out of control somewhere else.” She ignored the splitting headache that was forming, the fact that her arm was pounding with an intensity that was making her nauseous. Black dots were forming in front of her eyes, but she straightened her back and willed herself not to sway.

“Do you have any idea what it was like to get that call from Karen? To see that many missed calls from Zara? To spend that much time not knowing if you were going to make it?” Owen's voice dropped low. “He drove you into a fucking tree, Claire. You very nearly died. I'm sorry if I can't be as forgiving about that as you.”

He turned on his heel and stormed out of the bungalow, and for the first time since she had gotten home from the hospital, Claire was alone.


	5. Broken feather scattered down from the sky

Owen calmed down considerably once he was in the car. But he was still too mad, and yeah, probably a little too proud, to go back home right away.

Claire was infuriating.

Help Rob? _Help_ him? Rob was the reason that Claire was in massive amounts of pain. He was the reason she had almost died. Owen didn't _care_ why Rob did what he did, all he knew was that phone call from Karen shaved years off his life and he had felt a blind terror the likes of which he had never felt before, and that was because of Rob.

Owen would help him all right. Help him take a long walk off a short bridge. Preferably over the mosasaurus tank.

He hadn't had a destination in mind, he was just driving away from the bungalow aimlessly, but he found himself in front of the raptor paddock. He knew that he hadn't been giving the girls as much attention in the past few days as he should, but he was consumed with worry over Claire.

She was still in so much pain, and she was trying to hide it from him. To protect him, he knew. She kept telling him he was going to end up in the hospital himself if he didn't calm himself down, but Owen didn't know how to calm himself down. He wanted to fix things. He wanted to make her pain go away, and he _couldn't_. And he hated feeling that helpless. He hated seeing her bite her lip to stop from crying out, and he hated Rob with the passion of a thousand burning suns.

Help him.

Was Claire insane?

Owen climbed out of the car and made his way to the paddock, nodding at the security guard on duty before finding Barry stroking Echo's snout, murmuring soothing words in a low tone. He glanced over at Owen as he approached and gave him a small smile.

“They been good today?” Owen asked.

“They've been behaving pretty well. Delta's appetite isn't great. I think she misses you,” Barry replied, giving Echo one last scratch under the harness and turning to face Owen. “Claire okay?” Owen let out a long sigh.

“She thinks we should let Rob disappear into the ether,” Owen said after a long pause. “She thinks we should just forget about him.”

“She's a smart lady,” Barry told him. Owen narrowed his eyes.

“Don't take her side,” he warned, waving a finger in Barry's direction.

“I'm not on anyone's side,” Barry held up his hands in a placating gesture. “But is it worth it? Going after him, and then what will you do? When you could instead use that energy on helping Claire heal?”

“Sounds a lot like you're on her side,” Owen muttered. He rubbed a frustrated hand over his face. “I just...”

“You were scared,” Barry filled in. “You were scared and you still are, and you don't know what to do with that so you're turning that fear into anger.” Owen snorted.

“You're a regular Dr. Freud, you know that? You going to charge me for that advice?” But Barry was right, and Owen knew that he needed to call Claire and apologize.

“First one's free,” Barry shot him a grin.

“I should go home and tell Claire that she's in love with an idiot,” Owen sighed.

“She knows,” Barry told him. Owen ignored that, leaning forward to give Delta a scratch. His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he pulled it out, frowning when he saw Claire's number.

“Claire? Hon? You okay?” Fear washed over him. In his haze of anger, he had just left Claire home all alone. He immediately made a break for his car. “I'm coming home right now, Claire. What's wrong?”

“I'm okay,” Claire said in a voice that sounded like she was anything _but_ okay, and Owen's heart pounded against his rib cage. “So don't come rushing home like a maniac or anything, but I'm not feeling so hot, and I was wondering where you put the Tylenol?”

“It's in the bathroom, but I'm on my way home, sweetheart, just hang on, okay?” Owen had timed the drive from the paddock to the bungalow, and it generally took anywhere from ten to twelve minutes depending on how fast he was going.

Owen made it in six, rushing out of the car and through the front door to find Claire, her face flushed with fever struggling with the bottle of Tylenol in her good hand. Relief flooded her features when she looked up to see him walking in the door, and she held out the bottle wordlessly.

“I'm sorry,” Owen murmured, dropping a kiss into her messy hair. “I shouldn't have left you here.”

“It's fine,” Claire said in a small, exhausted voice.

“I'm also sorry about the way I reacted about Rob. It's just when I think about him, I just wanted to make him hurt, Claire, the way he hurt you,” Owen handed her the Tylenol and grabbed the glass of water sitting on the coffee table that she had poured.

“I know,” Claire sighed. “But it's not worth it. He's not worth it.” She swallowed the pills and then tucked herself up underneath his chin, and he slid his arms around her. “I know you were scared, and I know that you're still scared, but I'm okay. I'm not great, but I will be. This too shall pass. And you're going to end up worrying yourself into the hospital and then where will we be? I can't do much. I only have one good arm.” She pinched his side lightly. They were both quiet for a moment, Owen running a soothing hand up and down Claire's back, trying not to panic about the heat radiating off of her.

“Do you think we need to go to the hospital? You feel really warm,” Owen tried to keep his voice even, and Claire tilted her head to look at him.

“I feel like shit,” she answered honestly. “But I don't think I feel any worse than I have been. I'll let you know if there's a cause to worry, I promise.”

“Yeah,” Owen forced himself to take a deep breath, squashed his worry down, focused instead on how good Claire felt in his arm, on how thankful he was that she was still there, still in one piece. She wasn't okay, but she _would_ be.

That was what he needed to focus on. That was what he needed to remember.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Claire spoke up, her forehead furrowing in concern. “You okay?”

“I'm just so damn grateful you're okay,” he admitted, and she leaned up to brush a kiss on his lips. “You have no idea how grateful I am that you're okay.”  
  



	6. We all need sacrifice from our ways

“I’m so tired of not being able to use both arms,” Claire whined as she dropped her work bag onto the floor and collapsed on the couch next to Owen.

“Two more days,” he reminded her. “Two more days and then that cast can come off.” It had been a long healing process, and both Owen and Claire were looking forward to the day that the last physical reminder of the accident was gone.

“You can finally stop hovering,” Claire had said to Owen, who had rolled his eyes in response. He had eased up slightly with his mother hen routine, but the truth was that Claire wasn’t able to do everything with just one hand and had to rely on him a lot more. He didn’t mind, but she did. She was used to be independent and it chafed a little (or a lot) to have to ask for help all the time. Not just from Owen, but from Zara and some of the other employees.

“Not soon enough,” Claire muttered, dropping her head to his shoulder and picking up his hand with her good hand and giving it a squeeze.

“How was your day?” He asked, turning to brush a kiss to her forehead.

“Fine,” she hedged, and then took a deep breath which he knew meant she was gearing herself up to tell him something he might not want to hear.

“What?” Owen braced himself for whatever unpleasant news Claire was about to share.

“We had an unexpected visitor today,” she started, and Owen tensed. “Rob showed up at the offices.”

“What?” Owen dropped her hand and leapt off the couch, facing her and crossing his arms. “Why didn’t you call me?”

“He came to apologize,” Claire tried to placate, but Owen wasn’t having it. He began to pace in front of her.

“Why didn’t you call me?” He repeated.

“Honestly? Because I knew you’d react like this,” Claire answered. “He came to apologize, told me that he was seeking treatment, and then he left.”

“You should have called the police,” Owen seethed. “You should have called _me._ ”

“Owen,” Claire stood in front of him, placing a gentle hand on his arm. “You would have done something stupid.”

“I would not,” he protested, and Claire pinned him with a glare.

“You would have done something stupid, and I was trying to protect you from that,” Claire explained, rubbing his arm. Owen huffed.

“I’m supposed to protect _you_ ,” Owen argued. “You were the injured one. You were the one that he drove into a fucking tree.” His fists clenched at his side, the image of her bleeding and crushed up against the tree trunk flashing through his mind. He tried to shake out the thought, but once it was in there, it tended to get lodged. Claire could see it in his eyes, a far off stare, and she gave his arm a squeeze.  

“How about we just agree to protect each other?” Claire suggested. She slid her hand until it was in his, and tugged him back towards the couch. “Come on, sit down. Tell me about your day.” He dropped to the couch, still not totally appeased, and Claire dropped down onto his lap.

“I don’t like that he was there with you,” he murmured, and Claire pressed a kiss to his forehead. He didn’t. It drove him crazy to know that Rob had been with Claire in her office, been anywhere near her. But Claire was right, Owen would have done something stupid. He had been itching to get his hands on Rob since the accident, and it wouldn’t have gone well. Claire was right to stop him, and he _knew_ that, but it was one to know it and another thing to be okay with it.

“I know,” she said softly. “But it’s over, okay? He’s gone, and he’s not coming back and I’m _okay_. I’m really, honestly, okay.”

“Yeah,” Owen sighed, tipping his head forward to rest on her shoulder. He pressed a kiss through the filmy fabric of her blouse, and she closed her eyes for a moment. “I was just really fucking scared. I’ve gotten pretty used to having you around.” Claire chuckled lightly.

“Think you’ll keep me?”

“I think I might, yeah,” Owen nodded, and she opened her eyes and turned to face him, cupping his chin with her free hand. She leaned forward to kiss him and he smiled against her lips. “I love you.”

“I love you,” she echoed back. “And I really can’t wait for full use of both arms.”

“You and me both, lady,” Owen grinned at her. “I’m getting pretty tired of waiting on you hand and foot.” Claire snorted.

“Is that what’s been happening?” She teased, but she knew that was pretty damn close to the truth. She may have yelled at him a couple of times to relax and not hover so much, but she also didn’t know what she would have done if he hadn’t been there to help her. He helped her shower, helped her get dressed, was constantly on stand by when she needed _anything_ , and she appreciated it, and _him_ , but she was more than ready to be able to do things for herself.

“I’m surprised you didn’t have a little bell,” Owen shot back.

“There’s still a few more days,” Claire replied, primly. “I don’t get this damn thing off until Thursday.”  

“I’ll pick you one up tomorrow,” Owen murmured, pressing a kiss to the underside of her chin. “You can ring until your little heart’s content.”

“You’re so good to me,” Claire laughed, and then stopped, giving him a serious kiss and a serious look. “No, you _are_. You are _so_ good to me. And I don’t know if I always deserve it.”

“You do,” he reassured.

“I love you,” she said again, this time more fiercely.

And Owen didn’t reply, but tightened his hold on her, thinking about how close he was to losing her, and about how much he loved her. His throat tightened at the thought of what could have been, and he gave her a long kiss, trailing a finger down the cast that would thankfully soon be gone.

“I love you,” he repeated back. "I love you, I love you, I love you." 


End file.
